France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Twenty-Seven- Hold My Face In Your Hands

Charlotte (Charlie, Lottie)

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"We need to buy the cafe"

Papa stares at me from the door frame, frozen in place. I've been standing out here all night, knocking and knocking until he finally woke up. I'm a bit surprised to see him cleaned up and dressed in anything other than his robe. He doesn't smell as putrid as I remember, and- is that aftershave? 

He blinks a few times, before looking behind him and shutting the door on his way out. I wonder what he has in there that he doesn't want me to see. What am I thinking- it's probably trashed in there. He's most likely embarrassed. I'm just curious as to what has him in such a good mood. 

"The cafe?", He repeats, pinching the bridge of his nose as he adjusts to the light of the hallway. "Why?"

"Mrs. Lola is sick and she has to sell the cafe and I threw away her paperwork for her highest buyer because I should be first in line for the cafe but we still need to pay her and-"

He puts a finger against my lips, and rubs his temples gently. "Slow. Down."

I take a deep breath, and take his hands in mine, grabbing his attention indefinitely. 

"Mrs. Lola is sick. She needs somebody to buy the cafe."

He scratches his chin, looking up and pondering my suggestion. Then, he looks down, giving me his sweetest smile, and my heart leaps out of my chest.

"Non."

The smile slips from my face, and I furrow my eyebrows in disbelief, throwing his hands away from mine. Non!? NON!?

"Why!?", I stamp my foot against the carpet, the twinkle in my eyes completely faded. "I'd be so good at running it, I know I would be! I know how to bake, I can clean it, I'll be there everyday and lock up at Midnight-"

"You've never even had a job, Charlie. Do you know how to work a register? Do you know how to brew coffee, how to interview employees?"

I pause, and puff out my cheeks irritably, crossing my arms in the process. 

"I'll have Mrs. Lola train me. She handled the cafe all on her own, no employees needed!"

"That's because the cafe wasn't particularly booming with business, ma cherie", He replies delicately, setting a hand on my shoulder. "Just let it go. I'll buy you your own cafe, much fancier and prettier than Mrs. Lola's. It'll bring in much more money, I promise."

"Non!", I shrug off his hand, backing up away from him. "I want Mrs. Lola's!"

He sighs, exhausted, shaking his head slowly. "You're so stubborn sometimes, Charlie."

"Buy the cafe."

"You know, when you were a petite fille, you were always so generous and patient and-"

"Buy the cafe."

"You never asked for anything, and now all I hear is-"

"Buy the cafe."

He lets out another sigh, and turns back towards the door. I scramble over, and quickly tug at the sleeve of his shirt. He looks over his shoulder, and I give him my best puppy dog eyes. It probably reminds him of when I was a baby. He can't resist me, I know he can't.

I have all the power, here.

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France (Francis)